


With You

by j_gabrielle



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M, slight OOC I am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://qbond.tumblr.com/post/36376490404/mission00q">qbond's Mission00Q</a> and I took the prompt 'Hotel Rooms'</p>
            </blockquote>





	With You

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for what you are about to read.

They're all the same, really. Q has been in enough hotel rooms to know that there is a rather simple formula regardless of whether you're a 5-star, or a no-star; bed, TV, bathroom, done.

Sure, in some hotels they had a master controller that you could turn on lights, block out the sun with shades, call for the butler, all without moving an inch off your bed. Lazy fuckers.

It never really mattered to him what all the extra bits that came with a £5000 per night price tag. For Q, the only thing he really cared about was the man in the room with him.

"How long do we have?" He asks calmly, shrugging off his coat.

The man is already naked, lounging on the bed. It is a familiar routine to them; whoever arrives first does the check-in and gets naked on the bed. Q always tries to be the first because he couldn't not blush when he is being surveyed like a piece of meat hanging on a hook in the butcher's shop like he is now.

"Stop staring." Q says. He fold his clothes and places them on the chair, turning away.

"Would you rather I took a picture?" He drawls, the smirk on his face a filthy promise of things to come. He takes one of Q's hands in his, dragging him onto the bed and onto him, straddling. "I'm sure I could use it when I am alone at night and in need of some sort of relief."

Q decidedly did not shudder when he strokes his flanks, rough fingertips a delicious texture against his skin.

"How long do we have? I have a very jealous boyfriend, you know?" Q stretches forward, dragging his blunt nails on an upward stroke on the man's torso. "He could kill you with his little finger if he ever found out about us."

The man merely smiles serenely. "Oh, really?" He says, laughter in his voice. "I would certainly like to see him try." He tilts his head, angling it for a kiss.

"How long do we _bloody_ have?" Q pants when they separate for air. He is achingly hard, sweating and writhing on the man like a cat in heat. The air in the room is heavy on him, muggy and it is making him light-headed.

"6 hours." The man finally answers, calm facade shattering. An almost desperate need is surfacing. Q marvels at the fact that he is the one to undo him this way. "We've got enough time."

Q licks another kiss into spit slicked lips. "Yeah."

* * *

"A boyfriend that could kill you with his little finger? Really, Q?"

"Fuck off, Bond." Q mumbles sleepily. He feels a chuckle vibrate through his skin and rubs his cheek against the other man's side. 

Bond has an arm around him, holding him close next to him as he is propped up on the pillows, watching the news. Outside their hotel room window, the bright lights of Singapore wink and beckon.

"We've got a plane to catch." He hears whispered in his ear, the voice regretful but fond.

Q still couldn't believe his luck; that a man like James Bond would ever give him the time of day. But he did. A happy feeling blooms like a flower in his chest.

"Would you have had masturbated to a picture of me?" He asks later when they are packed and ready to leave. James quirks an eyebrow. Oh, right. The man already knows of the times he (Q) had masturbated to grainy half-naked surveillence pictures and has never passed up an opportunity to remind him of that. "I guess that's a yes, then." Q says, the zipper of his bag a suddenly interesting specimen of modern marvel.

Bond is beside him in a blink, wrapping his arms around him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Unless of course..." He mock frowns, "Your boyfriend isn't treating you right? Because if he isn't, then I am sure I coul--"

"My boyfriend is the best boyfriend I could ask for, and _I_ will kill you with my little finger if you so much as breathe another bad word about him." Q grins, pressing his finger on soft lips. "I love him very much, you know? Even when he has the emotional capabilities of a spoon."

Bond takes no offence at that. Instead, he presses his lips to Q's cheek. "And I am sure that he loves you very much, too. Even when you have the attention span of a goldfish." He laughs, blue eyes lighting up.

Q smiles, tucking away this moment into his mind palace to be revisited again and again. 

Hotel rooms are all the same to Q. He never stays long enough in one to memorise anything else beyond the room service menu. But he likes them all irregardless whether they were cockroach ridden or celebrity infested. When you could have James Bond in you're hotel room with you (and not there to kill you), wouldn't you love them too?

 

 

 


End file.
